


I'm Not Seasick, I'm Allergic To Boats

by EmetoOmo



Series: Allergy Series [1]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Emetophilia, M/M, Seasickness, Sickfic, Vomiting, Whump, induced vomiting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-08
Updated: 2018-08-08
Packaged: 2019-06-23 18:30:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,439
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15612363
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EmetoOmo/pseuds/EmetoOmo
Summary: It took some liquid courage, but Hanzo finally got McCree to agree to get on this ship with him. Stubborn as sin, McCree refuses to admit that he is seasick. No…he’s just allergic to boats.





	I'm Not Seasick, I'm Allergic To Boats

**Author's Note:**

> 1st Story in the Allergy Series
> 
> Anonymous asked: "I'm not seasick, I'm just allergic to boats" mchanzo? ;)
> 
> Graphic descriptions of vomiting ahead.

McCree closed his eyes, cowboy hat in hand as he fanned his face some, just trying desperately to get some sort of cooler airflow than that around him. With every cresting wave, the ship pitched, and with it the three shots of whiskey he’d taken on his own, and the shot of sake Hanzo had given to even convince him to get aboard roiled with more fury than the sea around them. He opened his mouth, trying to force a deep breath, but the air was hot and sticky with the kind of humidity that made you feel like you were trying to breathe through a thick blanket. 

Hanzo stood at the railing, the absolute picture of composed. No matter how much the ship pitched everyone else around, he kept balance and didn’t seem to be displaced in the least. He seemed like water himself, the way he just became that which was around him, no wave nor breeze hit him, but went through him. Or around him. McCree wasn’t sure how that kung fu-y stuff worked. 

“A storm is brewing.” The archer spoke, not looking back.  

McCree couldn’t disagree. Despite the lack of cloud cover where they were, the atmosphere felt supercharged, as if the world itself were holding its breath in anticipation of what was to come, its own anxiety personified in the roiling of its angry seas. All the response Hanzo ended up receiving from the sharpshooter was, however, a simple grunt as he tried to lay back and just put his cowboy hat over his face.  
  
It wasn’t working, but he could feel Hanzo looking back at him, and he knew full well what he was thinking. 

“You are sea sick.” It wasn’t a question. McCree groaned a little. 

“I told ya already, Hanzo…” He composed his expression before he removed the hat to look at him. “…I don’t get sea sick.”  

Hanzo stared at him unflinching. McCree looked away. 

“I’m allergic to boats.” 

“Ah.” He didn’t sound convinced, as he turned back around. “Good thing this is a ship then, I would have needed to worry.” 

 _“I would have needed to worry…”_   Jesse repeating under his breath in a mocking tone, sneering a little before his stomach lurched some. He could practically see Hanzo’s smile.  

He swallowed profusely against thick saliva that threatened to overtake his throat, his Adam’s Apple bobbing. It persisted, however, feeling like it was just coating his throat instead and threatening to set off his gag reflex at any moment. He jumped up, leaving his hat on his seat as he stumbled toward the railing.  

“You need to work on your sea legs,” Hanzo mused, watching him and the growing pale green that was spreading about his face.  

“Can’t all…be like some…dragon…grasshopper…thing…” He grit out, gripping the railing.  

“Perhaps it is your allergy,” Hanzo smiled, just a small hint of a tilt at the end of his lips as he watched him through dark eyes.  

McCree stifled a small gag and fixed his gaze on the horizon desperately. “Allergy? OH! Right, yeah, well…I aint never said I was perfect.” 

“Nonsense.” Hanzo moved, smooth as silk, to slip behind McCree, sliding his arms around his middle. Jesse flinched to have his stomach touched at all at first, his muscles tensing before he forced himself to relax beneath it. “There….” The archer nuzzled his face against the back of his neck.  

“You’re enjoying this…” McCree whispered. 

“Never your misery,” Hanzo whispered near his ear, feeling McCree try to hold back another gag.  

“And…if I…” His shoulders pitched as his back arched against Hanzo, a small unproductive heave escaping him. “…told you it was okay?” 

Hanzo pressed his body more fully against McCree, and he could already feel his arousal hard against him through their clothes. “…then perhaps I am… _enjoying_.”  

McCree gave a small smile, unforced despite the agony of his upset tummy. He and Hanzo had spent a couple of drunken nights talking about their kinks when the alcohol had taken over the conversations. Jesse couldn’t say he understood Hanzo’s penchant for enjoying seeing someone in the throes of nausea, or the subsequent expelling of things later. However, he could say he enjoyed the way Hanzo was gentle with him when he was sick, and how he always made sure that he wouldn’t be upset if his body reacted to is sickness. 

Hell, McCree had been on enough boats to know fully what it did to him…every time without fail. So, in truth, it’d be a lie if he said he hadn’t partially been fighting it this long just for Hanzo.  

He squirmed a bit, trapped between the archer and the iron railing of the ship as his nausea continued to soar to a new high. He gagged again, then swallowed stubbornly over the bile that had come up, just to give a loud belch and expel a small trickle into the sea below. “God…” 

“Shhh…” Hanzo soothed, kissing his neck. “Relax, let it come.”  

McCree tried, closing his eyes, and just fully giving in to the nausea. Mostly, it just made him dizzy, his head swimming miserably as he stomach cramped and he heaved another barely productive string of bile and spittle. Another gag came on the end of it, painful as nothing came up, and the following one made him belch loudly again, but otherwise gave nothing for the strain.  

“Stay.” Hanzo directed, making sure he had hold of the railing well enough before he released him and turned to disappear into the cabin behind them. McCree’s heart raced with adrenaline as he spit out more of the sick, stringing saliva that kept pooling in his mouth, gagging once more just for more bitter bile to come up.  

He returned with a bottle of water, the cap already twisted off for his boyfriend. “Drink.” The archer brought it up to McCree’s lips for him, and reluctantly, he parted and let the liquid in. “Slow and easy.”

McCree choked down a few drinks of it before he turned his head away, feeling sicker than ever. Hanzo moved it away to set the drink down at the chairs behind them, placing the cap back on. He made a soft noise of surprise as Jesse reached for his hands. He placed one of Hanzo’s palms to cup his upset stomach, the other he lifted til his fingertips tickled the coarse facial hair around his lips. “Help me…” He begged miserably.  

He smiled softly, and kissed his neck, then his cheek, and gentle tapped McCree’s lips to get him to part them. He was slow as he slipped his long, calloused bow fingers within his lover’s mouth, sliding them over his tongue. He was barely at the back of it before McCree’s stomach heaved beneath his palm and he gagged again.  

Hanzo removed his fingers, giving him just a moment to breathe before he pressed them in again. “Open,” he whispered, and used the pressure of his body to get McCree to lean at the perfect angle over the railing, using it as well as his hand to create pressure on his stomach. Into his throat his fingers pressed, wiggling a bit until Jesse gagged around them. He held them there, letting him heave again, and once more after that before he pulled them out with a soft noise. A wave of cold water came flooding up just as his deft fingers had moved.

That seemed to be the jump start his body needed as he retched loudly again, another wave coming. By then he was gripping for life against the railing. Hanzo waited for the next wave to come before he pressed in firmly, forcing up a larger wave of vomit out of him, the burn of sake and whiskey screaming up his throat and out through his nose as well as his mouth.  

He coughed, choking some, before he vomited again, forcing his body against Hanzo’s more. The archer’s arousal strained against the inside of his pants, throbbing with need as his lover spilled all that he had and writhed against him as he did. He closed his eyes, and reveled in it, but not so much so that he lost focus on McCree’s well-being. 

After a moment, Jesse cleared his throat and his nose loudly over the railing, his entire body trembling as his boyfriend held him up. “Better?”  “

Much.” He whispered, leaning back against Hanzo. “Come lay with me for a spell?” 

Hanzo smiled, releasing him to grab the water bottle, and returning just to slip an arm around McCree’s middle. “Always.”   


End file.
